The Beaver Arrives

The transatlantic flying boat taxied to a
mooring in Miami, and out stepped a brisk welterweight with a
carved-coconut face, Britain's fabulous Lord Beaverbrook. Scrunched
into a black overcoat, he emplaned for Washington. There he dined with
the President.

The Beaver had come to act as coordinator in the British-U.S. food and
production setup. That was the official reason, at least. If there was
any other reason, the dynamic newspaper tycoon, lately No. 2 man in
Winston Churchill's Cabinet, said nothing about it. Neither did Downing
Street; neither did Washington, officially.